


Hit List

by Immortalnite



Series: Off The Record (With You) [2]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Detective Noir, M/M, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 08:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immortalnite/pseuds/Immortalnite
Summary: It had been four days since the man named Ricky Goldsworth, prime suspect in the serial murders that had been plaguing New York for months, had escaped his cell where he awaited trial in a wash of blood.





	Hit List

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read the first part of this, Off The Record, I really recommend that you do, this will make much more sense. Also, listen to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVAhCfgpLuk), it'll make sense too.

The newspaper crinkled as Detective Tinsley set his mug of tea on top of it. Or maybe he should just call himself Tinsley now. There was no way he would possibly be going back to work now. No, he was very nearly dead.

It had been four days since the man named Ricky Goldsworth, prime suspect in the serial murders that had been plaguing New York for months, had escaped his cell where he awaited trial in a wash of blood. The man who’d been guarding his cell had been found hours after the jailbreak, strung up like a puppet in the bedsheets, strangled. Tinsley hadn’t been to work since.

The next day, the police officer who’d taken Goldsworth in had been found slumped against a dumpster behind a bar. Wrists slashed, thighs cut, jugular severed. Every single place where a major artery or vein was close to the surface was gaping open, spilling blood all over the alleyway. Or so Tinsley had heard, anyway. He didn’t dare check for himself. He didn’t dare leave.

On the third day of Goldsworth’s escape, the police chief, Frank Norris, was discovered in the bed of the police station’s secretary. It was gruesome. The secretary had to replace the bed. Understandably, Francesca Norris, who was his wife but not the secretary, was rather distraught. While the secretary didn’t understand how the murder could have occurred without her notice, the event apparently having taken place in the short time span between when she left the bed to get a shower and when she returned, there was nonetheless no doubt in anyone’s mind that it had been Goldsworth. When the new acting police chief arrived at his desk later that day, the heart of his predecessor was in the top drawer.

Today was day four of Goldsworth’s escape and no body had yet turned up. It didn’t take a detective to figure out whose body it would be today, but a detective Tinsley was nonetheless. One more person on Goldsworth’s hit list. The guard of his cell, the police man who’d taken him in, the police chief who’d put out the warrant for his arrest. The only body missing was the one of the detective who’d figured out it was Ricky Goldsworth committing the murders in the first place.

Yes, Tinsley knew today was his day to die, and he’d decided to spend his last hours sitting in his living room chair, dressed casually in jeans and a button up, a mug of his favourite tea at his side. He could run, but Goldsworth would find him. He’d known he was destined to die at Goldsworth’s hand, anyway. He’d known that since the first time the criminal had shoved him up against a wall to whisper a sultry warning not to meddle in his ear.

There was a knock at his door.

Tinsley stood up, his head feeling oddly detached from his body. He was tall, sure, but had everything always looked so far away?

The doorknob wasn’t cold. It simply lacked temperature. It didn’t feel like anything. Tinsley watched his fingers grab the knob and turn, opening the door that he hadn’t even bothered to lock.

“How polite of you to knock.” His mouth quipped for him.

Ricky Goldsworth stepped in, full lips drawn up in that smirk. “You know me, baby. Always polite.”

The door slammed shut and Tinsley’s back hit the wall, a hand on the collar of his shirt yanking him down to Ricky’s level. There were a million things he could say to buy himself more time, but not a single one would even start to form.

A hot breath ghosted across Tinsley’s lips, replaced a heartbeat later by scraping teeth.

“Not going to beg for me? Come on, C.C.” Ricky’s tone was mocking.

The kiss was rough but not sloppy, Ricky through and through. Tinsley wasn’t sure when his hands had moved, but they had, rucking up the white shirt under Ricky’s leather jacket. Ricky’s skin was burning hot, it always was.

There was a flash of pain as Ricky bit into his lip before drawing away, letting go of Tinsley. He stepped back, smirking as Tinsley leaned after him. Ricky spun on his heel, turning away from the foyer and Tinsley. The swing of his hips and the look he threw back over his shoulder were line and lure, and Tinsley was hooked.

The light in his bedroom was off, and neither of them bothered to turn it on. Fingers slid through the belt loops on his jeans, whirling him around. He landed on his bed, a weight across his hips. Ricky’s teeth were too bright in the half-light of the room as he shrugged out of his likely stolen jacket, tossing it to the side. Tinsley’s hands were on his waist again, how had that happened? He tried to sit up, but Ricky just pushed him back down again with that same cheshire grin, leaning forward until he was practically crawling over Tinsley.

“Aren’t you scared?” Ricky’s mouth found Tinsley’s neck, biting and sucking as his fingers undid the buttons on his shirt.

Tinsley groaned and let his head fall back. “Absolutely terrified.”

But his hands didn’t shake as he pushed Ricky’s shirt up until the man relented and allowed him to take the thin piece of fabric off, tossing it the same way as the jacket. Ricky started to laugh when he got the last button of Tinsley’s shirt open. The situation was absurd, his laughter was infectious, and soon Tinsley was laughing with him.

He sat up, shrugging out of his undone button-up, and pulled Ricky closer to him, twisting his hand in Ricky’s styled hair. His other hand slid up the tanned expanse of his back, claiming a quick kiss from his lips before Tinsley flipped them around so Ricky was on his back. Tinsley was sure that would get him stabbed, but Ricky just smothered a laugh against his lips.

Ricky’s legs cradled his, pulling him closer. Tinsley could feel the hard press of Ricky’s arousal against his hipbones. Ricky bit his lower lip and Tinsley let his hand fall between them, working open the button and zipper on Ricky’s pants. Ricky kicked them off as soon as he could, almost too eager.

“Nothing underneath?” Tinsley muttered, amused and aroused in equal measures by the smooth skin his fingers were met with.

“Shut the fuck up.” Ricky’s hand slid from around his back to the front of his jeans. Flicking the button open and giving them a hard yank down. The yank didn’t do much but it made his point. “I couldn’t be picky. It’s not like any of these clothes are _mine_.”

Tinsley only smiled a little more against Ricky’s lips and pulled away a little to kick off his jeans and boxers. Ricky growled and pulled him back in as soon as he dropped his clothes off to the side, falling right back into a routine that was far more typical than it should be. The sound of a cap being opened, a bottle of lube being pressed into his hand.

Tinsley trailed a finger down Ricky’s stomach, underneath his straining cock, circling around his hole, relishing in each gasp and groan he drew from the man beneath him. He pressed open mouth kisses that were more teeth than anything else to the side of Ricky’s neck as he pushed the first digit in. Underneath him, Ricky simply pushed back against the intrusion, impatient as ever.

When he added a second finger, Ricky hissed in his ear and raked blunt nails across his ribs. Tinsley knew he’d have worse marks than that before they were done. He pressed his fingers in slowly, twisting and crooking them towards the spot that would make Ricky start to fall apart in his hands.

Ricky made this aborted little gasp and bit into his shoulder, hips stuttering up. Another little crook of his fingers and Ricky moaned again, allowing Tinsley to move back enough to claim his lips again. He pressed in a third finger then, nipping gently at Ricky’s bottom lip before soothing it over with a quick swipe of tongue to distract him from the discomfort. Ricky was open and pliant beneath him, eyes dark and without the edge they usually held.

“You alright?” Tinsley asked, his voice soft.

Just like that, Ricky’s gaze was demanding and sharp again, his words punctuated by hip rolls and nails across his chest. “Hurry up and get on with it before I get bored.”

Tinsley sat back and eased his fingers out, reaching over to grab a condom from the drawer in his nightstand. It was a testament to how often this happened that he’d started keeping them there. The tin foil crinkled when he tore the packet open and dropped the wrapper off to the side, rolling the condom on in one smooth gesture. He snapped the little bottle of lube shut and flung that off somewhere to the side to be found later, already leaning back in towards Ricky.

He hiked a tan leg up over his hip, smirking at the shudder that ran through Ricky at the feel of his cock pressed into the seam of his ass. Carefully lining himself up, he began to push forward, leaning in to capture Ricky’s mouth at the same time. He swallowed the hisses that Ricky let out at the burn, breaking away to press little butterfly kisses to the edge of his mouth. Nails scraped along his spine as he bottomed out, digging in as if to remind him that he better not dare move just yet.

Tinsley waited, let Ricky’s little gasps get heavier as he slowly rocked himself back against him, waited until the sensations were too much. He dropped a biting warning on Ricky’s collarbone, then grabbed his waist and snapped his hips forward. Ricky’s head fell back with a loud moan, exposing the temptingly beautiful line of his throat. He set a harsh pace, his thumbs probably digging bruises into the tanned skin, but Ricky was moaning beneath him, fingernails raising red lines all across his chest, back and sides. The only sound was that of their skin slapping together mixed with ragged breathing.

Ricky’s thighs tightened around his hips and Tinsley pushed in harder, bottoming out with every thrust. Ricky moved in time with him, his face flushed pink. It wasn’t long before he started to make those high-pitched little whines that told Tinsley he was close.

Ricky came with a groan, his head falling back again, clenching hard around Tinsley. After a few more thrusts, he was coming too, arms shaking from the effort of holding himself up against the impulse to simply collapse on Ricky.

He pulled out slowly as he came down from their orgasm, Ricky keening gently as he drew away and collapsed in the bed beside him, breathing heavily. They lay there, listening to the rooster clock Tinsley had in his kitchen tick. He knew he had maybe minutes left now, but he didn’t want to go anywhere just yet.

Tinsley rolled onto his side, looking at Ricky. He was gorgeously imperfect. His black hair was mussed and splayed across his forehead, golden skin glowing and sweaty. The sheets pooled around his waist as he sat up, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Ricky’s lips curved into a smirk as he bent down to retrieve his pants.

“It’ll last longer, but I won’t.” Tinsley shrugged. He hadn’t felt any fear since Ricky first broke out of his holding cell, and he was certainly to fucked out to start feeling it now.

“Baby, I thought you were the top detective on my case?” Ricky chuckled. He pulled his jeans on and sat back down on the bed, making no other move towards Tinsley.

“I was, past tense, yes.” Tinsley muttered, resigned. “Obviously, that went very well for us both. I’m the last one on your hit list, _baby.”_

“Oh, but don’t you remember?” Ricky’s chuckle grew at that, and he leaned across the bed towards Tinsley and dragged a gentle finger down the side of his neck. The feeling almost made him shiver. “As lovely as you would look with bruises here, I never fuck the people I kill. Their underclothes are always on, aren’t they?”

Ricky stood up and grabbed up Tinsley’s clothes, holding them up with a smirk. “Because yours are right here.”

Tinsley sat up and caught the bundle of fabric Ricky tossed at him. “You can’t expect me to think you’ll just let me go. You’ve left a blood trail since your jailbreak.”

“I never said I was planning on letting you go. Put your clothes on.” Ricky walked over to where his shirt and jacket had been tossed and pulled them on, smoothing out a few wrinkles with his hand.

Tinsley obeyed wordlessly, pulling his jeans on and buttoning up his shirt while Ricky attempted to fix his appearance. “So what, then, are you going to do with me?”

Ricky strode over to face Tinsley, smoothing out wrinkles in his shirt next. “Well, I can’t keep murdering people, and I can’t really stay in New York, so I was thinking I’d just steal something and skip town.”

“And I fit into this all how?”

“I thought that would be obvious.” Ricky yanked on Tinsley’s collar again, pulling him down so they were at eye level with each other. “I’m stealing you.”

Ricky pressed a kiss to his lips, this one without any teeth, gentle. Still in that weird haze, Tinsley followed Ricky out his front door, not bothering to grab anything. He got in the passenger seat of a sleek black car that sat in his driveway, a car that belonged to neither of them. Ricky put the car in reverse and backed out of his driveway, then put it in drive and headed down the street.

“I expected you to say no.” Ricky commented, his eyes not leaving the road.

Shrug. “I expected you to kill me.”

The metal of the door handle was suddenly burning hot under Tinsley’s fingertips, the sensation unexpectedly sharp. He started laughing, the reality of what he was doing sinking in. “I mean, I think my career was over anyway. It’s bad for business if the detective is screwing the suspect.”

Ricky let out a laugh too. “I suppose it would be.”

They fell into silence, the wind rushing in their open windows. Ricky merged onto a busy road. Next to them, the other drivers carried on, oblivious and uncaring to the fact that a notorious murderer and fugitive was sharing their streets.

The city smelled like exhaust, cigarettes, sewage, fried food, and hot stone. Horns honked, people shouted, babies wailed and distant sirens screamed. The skyscrapers fell as they reached the outskirts of the city, gave way to the houses of suburbia, which in turn became tree trunks. The air tossed Tinsley’s hair and stung at his eyes until he rolled up the window. When they were out of sight of the urban sprawl, free, Ricky reached across the middle to pull Tinsley in for a kiss, not even slowing the car down in the slightest. It didn’t matter. There was no one else on the road.

“You know, I’ve always liked the name Ryan.” Ricky said when he returned to his side of the car. He glanced over at Tinsley long enough to shoot him a grin. “I can’t keep parading around as Ricky Goldsworth. He’s a wanted man, you know.”

“Typically, people tend to choose a name close to their own one when picking an alias. Ricky and Ryan are similar.” Tinsley pointed out.

Ricky- no, Ryan- shrugged. “Yeah, so? What’re you going to go with?”

Tinsley tapped his fingers on the arm rest. “What do you think of the name Shane? Or maybe Alexander?”

“Shane Alexander, then?” Ricky’s smirk was back. “I like it.”

Their fingers met on the seat between them.

“Shane and Ryan. Yeah, I like it, too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I promised a second part, and I delivered! Can you tell I'm not a huge fan of writing smut  
> Anyway, I feed off comments and kudos, so please! Send me some!


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